


A New Companion

by WhimsicalSesquipedalian



Series: Gavin 'Verse [1]
Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Dogs Should Pretty Much Just Rule the World at This Point, Everyone Needs a Pet Dog, Friendship, Gen, Nostalgia, Original Character(s), The Doctor Hates Coffee, i love dogs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-04-22 17:40:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4844456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhimsicalSesquipedalian/pseuds/WhimsicalSesquipedalian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after 'The Angels Take Manhattan', the Doctor is grieving over the loss of Amy and Rory when he receives a strange message on his psychic paper. But what he finds on the other end is not an enemy, but rather a new friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Gavin

 

Gavin woke up to the sound of Maggie stirring beside him, he could tell she was restless as she tugged at his arm, urging him to get up. He shook his head and rolled over, just a few more minutes, he thought to himself. He heard Maggie huff in annoyance and jump out of bed padding out to the kitchen, scuffing round for some food. I’m going to have to get up, he thought, she won’t leave me alone. And sure enough her expectant bark echoed down the hall at the discovery that her food bowl was empty.

‘Bloody dog’, he muttered before heaving himself out of bed.

He looked at the clock, the numbers 6:30 glowed angrily at him in the darkness. Why did he buy an alarm clock with red numbers? It always looked so accusatory. Especially since he already felt guilty about sleeping half the day away. He had settled down for a nap at two after a late lunch, thinking he’d only be asleep for an hour, and now it was time for tea. It was no wonder she left him.

He pulled his old, plaid slippers on and shuffled down the hall, passing the many pictures of far off, exotic lands that reminded him of who he used to be. As he passed the dresser his fingers brushed lightly over their picture and for the millionth time he considered pushing it down and forgetting, but for the millionth time, his heart stopped him, getting in the way of the logical side of him which forever screamed that he needed to get over her.

As he trudged into the kitchen Maggie brushed against his legs, sometimes he swore she was more like a cat than a border collie, a very fat border collie. He sighed as he poured food into her bowl, knowing he should pull out his old gear and take her hiking again, but he wasn’t sure he could face the memories. He walked over to the bench and found a half drunk cup of coffee which he placed in the microwave to reheat as he checked for any missed calls on the land line. The clear, robotic tones of the automated female voice rang through the kitchen seemingly harmonising with the dull electronic throb of the microwave.

Gavin rubbed his hand through his hair and across his face.

‘ _You have three new messages’_

‘ _Gavin’,_ an older woman’s voice wafted from the phone, _‘it’s your mother. I’m just calling because your Aunt Joan was wondering…’_

Gavin speedily pressed the delete button at the mention of Aunt Joan, he didn’t need that doddering old woman telling him he was wasting his life, he’d already figured that out himself.

_‘Gavin’_

At the sound of the next voice Gavin froze. It was young and soft, though at this point in time was tinged with anger and sadness. He knew it was Ellie without her telling him, and he wasn’t sure if he was up to hearing what came next.

‘ _Gavin, it’s Ellie, just calling to say that I got another one of your mobile bills and I’m mailing it over. I would really appreciate it if you got your address sorted as this is the fifth time and, to tell you the truth I’m getting a bit fed up…’_

At the sound of her voice rising Gavin pressed delete, he didn’t need to hear another account of what a crap human being he was, he got enough of that when they broke-up, and quite a bit before too.

_‘Gavin, it’s your mother again’_

This time he didn’t even wait to hear the message. Instead he got his coffee cup out of the microwave, walked over to the fridge and pulled out a cold piece of left over pizza before walking over to the couch and turning on the TV. He heard Maggie trotting behind him and lifted his arm so she could climb onto the couch and put her head in his lap, before he settled down and decided that ‘Strictly Come Dancing’ was the best thing on.


	2. A Strange Message and an Odd First Encounter

The Doctor skipped around the TARDIS console, pulling levers, winding cranks, deciding where to go next. River had left again, fading away as she always did, with no assurance of where, or when, he would see her again. He felt remarkably hollow as he danced around the life source of his incredible machine, his energetic and flamboyant action masking the loneliness that had begun to creep into his every thought.

Amy and Rory were gone. Yes they were together, and probably, no definitely, happy. But they were gone from his life and he could never get them back. Not only were they gone from him, but from the life that should have been theirs. Rory’s father, who the Doctor cared for dearly, would never again see his son. Amy’s parents, who would never have re-existed if it weren’t for his interference in her life, would never again see their little girl. And worst of all, Melody Pond, the woman he cared about more than any human being in the universe, had lost her parents.

The lights of the console began to blur as he felt tears form behind his eyes. How many tears, he wondered, have I shed? And over how many lost companions? It was his fault that Amy was gone, no-one else’s, and he knew it with total conviction. Amy hadn’t needed him, not after the crack was gone. It was long since that she had stopped being Amelia Pond, the girl who waited, and had started being Amy Williams, loving wife of a good man. And yet, he had to keep coming back. Creating situations where he was needed, when in fact it was him that needed them, needed someone to stop him feeling the guilt and loneliness that came with many hundreds of years of living.

He had stopped his usual dance and was now leaning heavily over the console, the light dancing on his care worn face. He looked up and placed his hand on the pillar.

‘What now eh?’ he said, giving his girl a pat, ‘Who needs me now?’

He stood like that for what seemed like hours, but could really have only been seconds. Living as long as he had time had almost become irrelevant, and its passing unnoticeable. It was only when his top left pocket was filled with a sharp, searing heat that he again recognised its existence. Standing up straight the Doctor reached into his pocket in search of the culprit, and his hand rested on his psychic paper, still warm from what he only presumed was an incoming message. Strange, he thought, as only two people had ever contacted him this way. One was River, and he couldn’t be running into her again so soon. The other was a young child, who had turned out to be a very upset alien telepathically trapping his fears inside a bedroom closet.

With interest, and only slight trepidation, the Doctor pulled out his psychic paper and opened it. The message was in a neat, warm hand, much like that of a cosy old Aunt and read:

‘ _Please, my friend needs help. Come quickly, Margaret.’_

He looked at the paper with confusion. Underneath the message a set of coordinates appeared and almost automatically he began plugging them into the TARDIS monitor. When he was just about to set a course he stopped. Who could have sent the message? It took a great deal of psychic energy to send a message to his paper. He looked at the coordinates more closely and realised that they originated from earth, and not just earth, but an apartment building in Bristol. In the back of his mind a warning light went off, but it was drowned out, as always by his overactive and often dangerous sense of curiosity.

His mind, having spent too long dwelling on the past, delighted at the opportunity for mystery and adventure, and before he could second guess his decision he confirmed his coordinates and began his journey, dancing around the TARDIS console with what could only be described as excitement.

 

* * *

 

 

Gavin was sitting on the couch watching yet another woeful routine by a tall, blonde, gorgeous celebrity who looked vaguely familiar but he couldn’t remember the name of. _Martina_ , it said on the screen, but he’d be blowed if he knew what she was famous for. Maggie let out a small whimper and Gavin lifted his arm so she could adjust her head before settling back to watch the scores.

Tess had her arm around Martina, consoling as she was anxiously awaiting the judges’ verdict when there was a knock on the door. Gavin looked down at his watch: 7:00 pm. He leant back and ran his hand through his hair, wondering who on earth would be calling at this time of night. As he sat pondering, Maggie jumped of the couch and waddled to the door, pawing at it and whining. Bloody dog, he thought, as he stood up and wandered over.

As he approached the door his attention was caught by the unfamiliar shape silhouetted in the small square of opaque glass. The man on the other side had longish hair slicked back and to the side. His chin jutted out an unusual amount as he squared his shoulders and tugged at something indistinguishable around his neck. It was the demeanour of someone confident of the task they were undertaking, only Gavin had never seen this man before in his life.

Confused and slightly cautious, Gavin opened the door to one of the strangest men he had ever seen. Dressed in black pants, an off-white shirt, suspenders, a brown tweed jacket and a red bowtie, his slightly hunched shoulders and jutted chin, hands clasped in front of him made him look slightly like a praying mantis. Gavin stood dumfounded for a moment taking him in, before regaining his composure.

‘Who the bloody hell are you?’ He spluttered, as Maggie barked happily at his feet.

 

* * *

 

 

The Doctor stood outside the door of a London flat, the number 216 glittering under the fluorescent light on the landing. He stood facing the glass, the sharp heat in his left pocket telling him that this was the right place. As he prepared himself for whatever remarkable possibility awaited him behind the door he squared his shoulders and straightened his bowtie, barely containing his inner glee as he heard footsteps on the other side.

As the door opened he clasped his hands in front of him in anticipation, thought the sight that arrested him was not what he expected. A man in his early thirties with sandy blonde hair and two days growth, around six foot tall and on the tubby side stood looking bewildered. He was wearing a singlet stained with some brown substance, probably coffee, though the Doctor couldn’t be sure, and striped boxers. On his feet were a pair of old plaid slippers, one of which was almost chewed through, probably by the abnormally fat dog that stood happily beside him.

‘Who the bloody hell are you?’ the man spat, jolting the Doctor out of his inspection.

The dog barked jovially at him as he cleared his throat and looked round almost expectantly before announcing his name.

‘I’m the Doctor’, he said, a slight grin forming at the edges of his mouth, as it did every time he said his name, ‘I’m looking for Margaret, is she here?’

The man looked at him flabbergasted. His hand moved the door back an inch as he gruffly announced, ‘No Margaret here.’

The Doctor took a step further in so that he was standing in the door frame, looked the man straight in the eye and explained, ‘I was sent a message.’

The Doctor looked at the man expectantly as he waited for a reply. The man however was becoming more and more irate by the second and swung the door shut as he sharply announced ‘Don’t know no Margaret and certainly don’t need any help from a random stranger.’

The door slammed into the Doctors nose and toes, forcing him back out onto the landing. The Doctor, not able to decide which hurt worse, began an odd dance, hopping from foot to foot, his hands not able to decide whether they wanted to hold his nose or his feet.

‘That Hurts!!’ he yelled, not quite sure to whom as he straightened himself up, wiggling out the pain.

He took the psychic paper out of his pocket and shook it in front of his nose, ‘What’s the point of having you if you’re not going to work!’ he yelled frustratedly, before shoving it back into his pocket and pacing confusedly on the landing, his hands still held out in front of him.

He was just about to walk away when he heard the door swing back open and he flicked around to see the man standing in the doorway.

‘Sorry for bein’ rude’, he grumbled, ‘Come in, I’ll make you a cuppa.’

The Doctor smiled before rubbing his hands together and striding into the flat.


	3. Peanut Butter and Revelations

Gavin stood behind the kitchen counter, the sound of the kettle growing in the background, examining the strange man who stood on the other side. ‘The Doctor’, as he had called himself (though that seemed like a thoroughly ridiculous name, Doctor of what?), stood jittering, like he had never been asked to stand still for more than one minute. His hands never stopped moving, almost aching for a task to take up. His head moved from side to side like a meerkats and settled on the television, the Doctor’s face lighting up like a Christmas tree at the sight arresting him.

‘Dancing’, he exclaimed, ‘I love dancing, especially at weddings, best place to dance, weddings.’

Gavin noticed his eyes tinge with sadness as he finished speaking, as if mourning a loss, his words holding much more meaning than they seemed. Gavin realised he may have much more in common with this strange man than he initially thought. As he stood pondering this the kettle clicked off and he could hear the water furiously boiling behind him.

‘How do you take it?’ he asked, turning round to sort the coffee.

‘I don’t know’, he said, his eyes lighting up with confusion and what looked like excitement, ‘haven’t drunk coffee like this yet, exciting!’

The Doctor rubbed his hands together and leant forward. Gavin looked on, bewildered by the circumstances he was finding himself in with this man, at this point he felt things couldn’t really get any stranger.

‘Do you take milk?’ he said helpfully.

‘Milk!’ the Doctor exclaimed triumphantly, ‘sure, why not, good for you, milk, keeps your hearts strong, or so I’m told.’

He gave Gavin a wink over the counter and Gavin could do nothing but gape openly, very aptly resembling a goldfish. This man got stranger by the minute, and Gavin was sure he’d heard him say hearts instead of heart, which made no kind of coherent sense. After a good thirty seconds he shook himself out of his stupor.

‘Alright milk, any sugar?’ he asked, his voice wobbling on the last word, slightly apprehensive of the answer he would receive.

‘No, I’ll try it like this’ the Doctor asserted, smiling.

Gavin handed the coffee over to him and watching him take a hearty swig, no standing on ceremony with this one.

‘BLAAAHHHH’ the Doctor cried, spitting his coffee back into the mug, ‘sugar!!!’

Gavin handed the sugar pot to the Doctor who proceeded to put four teaspoons into the cup. He then took another hearty swig, and once again loudly spit it back into the mug, much to Gavin’s disgust.

‘Sugar, yuck, horrible, no, needs something else’, the Doctor rambled before running to the pantry and rummaging furiously through the cupboard, much to Gavin’s indignation.

‘Peanuts!’ he exclaimed, holding the peanut-butter jar triumphantly.

Gavin looked on utterly bamboozled, what the bloody hell did this man need peanut-butter for? His bewilderment only grew when the Doctor proceeded to put a large teaspoon of peanut-butter into his mug and stir it vigorously, so that globs of melted peanut-butter floated to the top of his already disgusting cup of coffee. Gavin then watched on in horror as the Doctor took a swig and for the first time, actually swallowed, grinning at the end.

‘Much better’ he said with a smile, but once again it slid from his face.

 

* * *

 

 

The Doctor leaned heavily against the counter, looking sadly at his cup of peanut-butter coffee.

‘I’ve done this before’ he said, his voice laced with loss, ‘fish fingers and custard.’

He looked up at Gavin, whose face wore an expression of utter confusion. The Doctor smiled sadly at him, before letting his eyes roam the apartment properly for the first time, anything to take his mind off his memories. He was met however with a torrent of Gavin’s. The Doctor’s eyes scanned the many pictures on the walls and came to rest on one in particular, covered in dust like it was too painful to remember, but still left standing, like it was too heart-breaking to forget. It stirred in him a sense of sadness and empathy for the man standing across from him, they both knew what it was to lose someone they loved.

‘We’re very similar, you and me’, he remarked with a small smile, tilting his head at Gavin.

From a across the room he heard an exasperated bark, _‘Oh, for goodness sake!_ ’

The Doctor whipped his head around to behold the border collie he had seen earlier, lying on the couch, her muzzle resting on the arm, watching the exchange between the two men.

‘Hello old girl, forgot you were here’, he said, putting down his mug and walking over to give her a pet.

‘That’s Maggie, good dog she is’ Gavin grunted, his attachment to the dog seeping through the gruff tones.

The dog huffed and shook her head indignantly, ‘ _My name is Margaret, how many times._ ’

‘Margaret!’ the Doctor exclaimed, jumping up from his crouched position in front of her.

‘What’s that?’ Gavin asked, evidently confused.

The Doctor however was not listening and was very excitedly shaking Margaret’s paw.

‘It’s a great pleasure to meet you Margaret, I’m sorry I didn’t realise sooner’ he said, grinning from ear to ear, ‘I’m guessing that’s the friend you were telling me about.’

The Doctor gestured to Gavin and Margaret barked joyfully in response, ‘ _Yes! He’s far too melancholy, never takes me on walks, stays in the house day in day out, and doesn’t wash, I tell you the smell is getting to be unbearable, you’d never catch a dog smelling like that, all human and sweaty.’_

‘Well he is human and sweaty’ the Doctor grinned, looking at Gavin with a wink.

‘Who’s human and what?’ Gavin said indignantly, a look of incredulity dissipating over his features.

He seemed to look like that a lot, the Doctor thought, it was endearing in a way, but frustrating in another.

‘Margaret says you smell, and I don’t blame her, says you should take a bath, which is good, baths are great’ he said rubbing his hands together.

‘Let me get this straight’, Gavin stated, his face suggesting that in his head the situation was anything but, ‘My dog told you, to tell me, to take a bath. _My_ dog, _told_ you.’

‘Yes Gavin’ the Doctor sighed, sounding exasperated but the glint in his eye suggested he enjoyed this, ‘and _Margaret_ is only concerned about your wellbeing, sent me a note to come and help you, which I intend to.’

Gavin stood looking at the Doctor, opening and closing his mouth in what could only be described as an utter loss for words, or any form of intelligent communication. The Doctor looked down at Margaret, whose eyes nodded to him in silent agreement and encouragement. The Doctor looked up at Gavin again, a glint in his eye and a smile on his lips.

‘Come with me, I have something to show you.’ 


End file.
